


Ask Me Anything

by loochskywalker



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Anal Sex, Developing Relationship, Fluff, Growing Up Together, M/M, Oral Sex, Willy is significantly more aware of his feelings than Pasta, and yet they manage to avoid angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-22
Updated: 2017-05-22
Packaged: 2018-11-03 18:33:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10972989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loochskywalker/pseuds/loochskywalker
Summary: Pasta was so used to answering William right away but he let the silence fall between them again then because it felt important. He needed to think this over, not just give William a yes if he wasn’t sure.It still doesn’t take him long.“Anything you want.”





	Ask Me Anything

**Author's Note:**

> So this isn't really a ship i'm super invested in but i still needed to write it because of this picture: https://68.media.tumblr.com/153522bafd1bbeceaa77157183054538/tumblr_opfhucIbV31u1l5c0o2_r1_540.jpg  
> also anything to give pasta the love and support he deserves. I just never know what i'm going to write next lmao.
> 
> A few other notes:  
> This spans basically from when they were 16 in sweden together to when they're 19 in Willy's rookie year.  
> nothing sexual happens before their 18 because obviously  
> Pasta calls willy, William irl, so that's the name i used here too.  
> i promised myself i wouldn't put in too much research into this so if it's inaccurate especially in reference to the swedish leagues. i am sorry.

 

Road trips...suck. Road trips that take hours in a dark bus suck the most. It’s mostly okay though, because it means bigger and better things are to come. He gets to travel around Sweden and play hockey, and he gets to do it next to his best friend. Pasta doesn’t like the dark and he doesn’t like being cramped on a bus for so long, but he does like spending all of his time with William. Sometimes he feels needy for it, but William doesn’t tell him to stop, sometimes he scoots even closer than Pasta was planning.

So in these dark buses they huddle close together, watching movies on an IPad that William’s dad gave him. They’re definitely not the only one’s on the team who understand what the other is going through, or anything stupid like that, but they still feel closer. Most people make fun of Pasta, for the fact that he can’t speak Swedish and he can barely speak English, for the fact that he giggles more than he talks, for almost everything about him. William doesn’t though. When Pasta giggles William asks what’s so funny and laughs too when Pasta explains it. And when Pasta gets stuck on words or doesn’t understand he jumps in easily to translate.

He’s nice. And Pasta really likes that William is nice to him.

It’s not just that he’s nice too, he’s patient. A lot of the guys will just answer for Pasta when he doesn’t understand something, like at restaurants or stuff, or scold him until he gets it right. William will sit with him and explain things in a gentle and slow voice, he even picked up a few words in Czech to make it easier for Pasta

They spend a lot of time together because of this, at each others homes or on the road with each other. Pasta thought William was just nice to everyone the way he is to Pasta, as calm and as patient with them, but he’s not, he just doesn’t have the time. He is still nice but he gives Pasta hours when he’d give someone else minutes.

Pasta selfishly thinks he deserves it, thinks he _earned_ it, with his family being the way it is; his mom constantly calling him up to tell him she’s so scared and to ask him to come him. He deserves the extra help and William wants to give it to him.

So in these dark busses they sit together, Pasta always gets the window seat because William doesn’t care enough to ask for it, and they watch movies. They queue up movies in Czech or with Czech subtitles and William never complains, sometimes he laughs but a lot of the times he’s mostly confused and is asking Pasta hushed questions so no one yells at them. It’s hard for Pasta to explain it to him but William takes any bit of information Pasta gives him and nods, intrigued like he really gets what Pasta is saying.

That night though, they found an english movie with subtitles so William is mostly quiet, huddled in his hoodie and leaning close against Pasta’s shoulder. He was warm and the bus was making a quiet rumbling noise. Pasta didn’t think he’d stay awake through the rest of the movie.

“Hey,” William said, his voice gentle and just loud enough for Pasta to hear him over the rumbling of the bus, “you going to sleep soon?”

“Probably,” Pasta said.

“Hmm, okay” William rested his head on Pasta’s shoulder at that and let out a deep breath, his eyes still trained on the screen. It’s not the first time William has ever cuddled up close to Pasta, but it still made Pasta’s chest feel weak and he’s not sure why.

“You?” Pasta asked, curious.

“I dunno” William said, in that same humming voice, “I should but sleeping on busses suck; I’m all cramped.”

“You can sit alone,” Pasta told him. And it was true, there were some empty rows still around. Most of the guys were still up and interacting with one another to pass the time. So if William wanted to stretch out…

“No,” William said, he sat back up off of Pasta’s shoulder, “I like it here,” when he said it he put his hand on Pasta’s forearm, where it was resting between them on the arm rest.

“Okay,” Pasta said, not sure if William was saying what Pasta thought he was. He really wished they spoke the same language sometimes, he thinks he’d understand so much more about William if they did. He thinks he’d be so much more interesting to William if they did.

There were a few more beats of silence before William leaned back over, “Hey, Pasta?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I hold your hand?”

Pasta looked up and saw William blinking back at him, pale eyes big, open, and unintimidating. Pasta knew he could say no, knew he could pull back and shake his head or pretend he didn’t know what William was asking. But...it was William. He was harmless. So Pasta nodded and turned his palm over, open so William can grab it.

William did, and it wasn’t a big deal. Just linked their fingers together and rested his palm over Pasta’s. It didn’t feel any different, William’s hands were warm and a little sweaty, and the extra weight was comforting. But that’s it. It wasn’t a big deal.

When the bus finally pulled to a stop in front of their home arena, Pasta was shaken awake by the loud announcement of their coach. Like most days he had to extract himself from William, but found he wanted to keep their hands together.

 

***********

 

“You know I don’t like the dark” William sniffled, wiping at his mouth shyly, “You’re not allowed to make fun of me.”

Pasta knew he shouldn’t, but he couldn’t help the small grin that crept up onto his face. William never made fun of the things Pasta was scared of, like how he double checked the locks before going to bed, but being scared of the dark was _silly_. William being his friend didn’t make it less sily.

“Fine, whatever” William said, throwing his hands down by his side, “it’s stupid I know but seriously.” He reached to grab Pasta’s arms and tug him closer, “Don’t be a jerk about it.”

“Sorry.” But Pasta wasn’t really feeling sorry, because William was resting his head on Pasta’s chest and letting out a long sigh. He likes to complain and pout about things, with his big eyes and blonde hair like everyone will just drop everything for him. He’s mostly right. Pasta is one of those people but he still will laugh at William about it along the way. If William had a problem with it they probably wouldn’t still be friends.

“We can watch movies, until you tired” Pasta offered, they should be getting to sleep as soon as possible but both of them getting most of their sleep is better than Pasta getting all of it and William getting none.

William must have agreed with this logic because he nodded to Pasta, pulling back just enough to really give Pasta a pitiful look as he bit at the cuticles of his thumb. It was supposed to be cute, probably. And to Pasta it mostly was, but he’s not a fair measure. One time William’s lip got so swollen he could barely talk out of it and Pasta still thought he was cute. So he just isn’t a reliable source on William’s cuteness.

They pulled up a movie on Pasta’s laptop on their bed and put it between them. William grabbed the blankets and cuddled up under them before Pasta could even find a movie to put on.

“Quick move,” Pasta told him, not sure if his words made sense. William just laughed and reached for him so he could pull Pasta closer and rest his head on Pasta’s chest.

It was almost normal now, for William to keep Pasta near him, under him. Pasta never even thought to push William away, if it was what he wanted than Pasta assumed it would be what he wanted to. Or at least, he wouldn’t dislike it enough to ask William to move. And that line of thinking hadn’t failed him yet..

William made Pasta get under the covers with him and Pasta didn’t fight that either. It was warm and the blankets were pretty comfortable. Anyway it was his bed, accidentally falling asleep wasn’t an issue. That would be William’s problem.

Maybe.

Or not, because minutes into the movie William looked over to Pasta, that same pouty look he wore earlier right there on his face.

“What?’ Pasta said, suspicious.

“Can I sleep with you?” William asked, “Like, in this bed, I’m warm and too tired to go over to my bed.”

“Okay,” Pasta didn’t even think to tell him no.

 

***********

 

The draft was exciting and loud and there were lights and cameras everywhere and Pasta could feel it in his bones, that buzzing excitement. He liked it more because he got to be with guys he knew, guys he grew up playing hockey with. Mostly he liked that he was there with William, even if William was being swept up every few seconds by his family and his dad and everyone else that thought he was going top ten. He’s good enough but Pasta wanted to grab William and pull him closer. He didn’t want to stop being next to him.

William kept shooting him sorry looks whenever his dad dragged him away, or the camera’s pointed towards them and he clammed up. Pasta didn’t think he should be so nervous, because William’s a great hockey player and person, everyone likes him. Pasta was the one at a disadvantage, he couldn’t even really speak English. William didn’t have to worry about that, he had that down.

It shouldn’t have been hard for William but Pasta could see that it was and he didn’t like that, but he didn’t know how to pull William to the side to calm him down. He thought back to his cramped and small apartment back in Sweden and wanted William back there with him, where they could curl up in bed together and breathe the same air to just relax, fall asleep, not worry about anything going on outside the walls.

William could be going to Vancouver or Winnipeg or Toronto, big hockey cities that take it very seriously, where he could be the future. That was a big weight to carry and Pasta wasn’t going to go as high but he hoped to have as much of an impact. But he knew, the pressure wasn’t on him to like it was on William.

At the end of the day though Pasta just didn’t want to make anything worse so he stayed away, smiled at William when he shot Pasta stressed out looks. He just wasn’t sure what to do, he had his own day to worry about, so he chose to focus on that, let William's day play out like it was going to. They could reconcile later.

The result is they didn’t see each other a lot leading up to the draft but it was okay because Pasta got to watch him get drafted by the Leafs. Even if it was a little lower than Pasta thought he deserved to go he was still so excited for him. Toronto is such a big and cool city, he thinks William will like it a lot there.

A few picks later The Bruins choose him and he felt it all through his body; the fact that he’s really made it. He made it to a good team with good players. And his mom was crying into his shoulder like she could feel it too.

They always said to take it slow, enjoy your day at the draft because it goes by so fast but Pasta didn’t know how he was supposed to do that. He tried. He tried to grab onto moments, like the way the lights felt warm when he was getting his draft photos taken, or the way the Bruins reporter had been smiling at him all warm. He tried but it all still whirled by him too fast for him to grab at until he’s left in his hotel room, alone, with nothing but the buzz of the day still in his system.

He was tired, he was exhausted, but he didn’t want to go to bed and have this day be over, he didn’t want the summer to start and have to wait so long till he got to be part of the NHL again. This was his dream. He didn’t want to go to sleep anymore. He needed to though and he knew that. But still. So much happened he didn’t want to turn it over.

Around 2 am there was a knock on his door. He didn’t know who it is but he’s prepared for it to be his mother, still so worried about him even after a day as good as that one. But when he opened the door it wasn’t his mother at all. It was William.

“Pasta,” William said, stepping into the room and closing the door behind him, “We did it,” he pressed close to Pasta then, his eyes bright and feverish, his mouth a bright smile.

“Yeah,” Pasta said back, excited, “We did!”

William laughed, all happy and open and grabbed Pasta around the shoulders, hugging him close. Pasta hugged him back, because the buzzing in his skin still wouldn’t calm down and if he couldn't get it out then the least he could do is press it into William, share it with him.

William kept laughing into Pasta’s neck before he pulled back to look at him. They’re the same height, same size, like they’ve always were and still somehow William took up every part of him. Pasta couldn’t see past him. But that was okay. Everything else was vast and unknowing except that right there, right then, William is holding onto him and it feels so nice.

“Hey,” William said after a beat or two.

“Hey,” Pasta said back, letting his eyes close softly when William pressed their foreheads together.

“Can I do something?” William asked.

“Sure,”

“I want to kiss you, is that okay?”

Pasta blinked his eyes back open. William was so close and there was nothing else but him. So Pasta nodded, “Okay.”

He closed his eyes again when William pressed his lips to his. William feels so warm and soft and everything tingles in a good way. It felt like their lips just fit together, no one had to lean down or up, William was right there for Pasta. He never thought of kissing William before but when he finally did, he didn’t want to picture it ending.

When William finally pulled away Pasta couldn’t help but think it went by too fast, like everything else that day.

 

***********

 

That summer was full of the sun and nutritionists and work out plans. It was also full of late night and bonfires with friends. So when William asked if they could meet up and spend a week together, Pasta didn’t think to even say no. They both had something more important to work too that summer, something bigger than the Swedish league. It was so important to both of them and that was something Pasta was sure of but, William was important to him too. He couldn’t spend all of his time focused on hockey, couldn’t forget the other important things in his life.

Being with William is easy and nice because as always he didn’t expect anything from Pasta. When William finally did come down to see him things sort of settled in Pasta’s chest.

William didn’t hesitate to pull Pasta towards him and kiss him for hours, just sitting in Pasta’s room, brushing his hand through Pasta’s hair. It felt nice and warm, kind of like the summer air did.

That’s not all that they did though, they went for runs and shoved at each other until one of them tipped over into the grass and the other dropped to the ground next to them laughing. They pushed at each other's hands as they rolled around on the ground, pretending they wanted to keep the other at arm's length. It’s hard, in the sun, to push William away instead of pulling him in close. It didn’t feel right. But laughter still bubbled up in Pasta’s chest like pop rocks.

It felt so nice.

William was supposed to be staying in a guest room but he didn’t. They didn’t talk about how William just dropped his suitcase in there and only went back to grab his clothes. They didn’t have to. They knew that was how it was going to go. Besides Pasta was worried that if he did say something William would spend his nights in that room instead of spooned up behind him. Pasta didn’t want that.

So they slept curled up together and spent their days kissing each other when they managed to get away from prying eyes. And still, they don’t talk about it. But that’s okay because Pasta didn’t think he needed to tell William he liked it when he kissed the back of Pasta’s neck, the way he arched his head and let out a soft sound said it all.

And it did, because on his last night there William pressed a hand against Pasta’s abs from behind, when they were curled in bed together, and said, “Can I touch you?”

Pasta felt his breath stutter but nodded against the pillow.

“Okay,” William said and kissed behind Pasta’s ear before his hand moved lower. The anticipation of it made Pasta’s breath stop short in his chest. William’s hand ducked into Pasta’s boxers finally, his fingers soft but searching. His hand passed over Pasta’s half hard dick to pet gently at his thighs, tucking between them and stroking the skin upwards until his fingers did finally brush along his dick.

Pasta let out a hard breath at the feeling of William’s finger tips sliding up the hot skin, sending shivery shocks up Pasta’s body. He let out a soft groan when William’s fingers reached the head and stroked around it. The light touches got Pasta the rest of the way hard and when he did William pulled his hand away.

“Shh, it’s okay” William said when Pasta whined.

He heard William spit into his palm before tucking his hand back in against Pasta’s dick. It had felt better that way, Pasta almost forgot why he was originally upset. William kept making shushing noises as he grabbed Pasta’s dick in his fist and started slowly jerking his hand up and down.

Pasta felt his chest rattle with each breath, pushing back against William so there wasn’t an inch of space between them. William tucked his head down and brushed his lips against Pasta’s neck. Pasta couldn’t stop but moaning with it, William was so warm against his back and he felt so close and his hand was working over the hypersensitive skin of his dick in a steady and unrelenting rhythm.

William squeezed Pasta’s dick and with his other arm he wiggled it between Pasta’s head and the pillow to turn Pasta towards him and kiss him firmly.

When Pasta came into William’s palm, it was with Williams tongue in his mouth. The moans were mostly muffled but Pasta felt absolutely devastated, his body shaking and weightless.

 

***********

 

Making the Bruins was a dream come true for Pasta and when he got the call up he couldn’t help the bubbling excitement. It’s so much more to play for the Bruins, a team that featured his idol, David Krejci. It all felt so surreal, even Providence felt surreal, but Boston more so. He wasn’t even sure if he’d make the Bruins in the next few years and here he was -- an 18 year old drafted outside the top 10 -- in the NHL, for a team that consistently was at the top of the league.

He couldn’t believe his luck.

Krejci and Lucic took Pasta under their wings. Krejci especially, who seemed so much more serious and mellow than the big, booming Looch. It was a facade though, Pasta knew that very well. Krejci liked to whisper in Czech under his breath, most snarky comments or bad jokes that only Pasta could understand. At first Pasta thought it was a slip, that Krejci just forgot he could understand but then Krejci started shooting him grins after and Pasta knew. The jokes were for him too.

It seemed Krejci’s only real weakness was Looch himself who liked to touch and pull Krejci into his orbit and refuse to let go. It only took a few games for Looch to do the same with Pasta, laughing and wrestling with him. Krejci would just watch them from a few feet back, giggling into his palm.

It was amazing, every player on the team was so welcoming and good to Pasta. The warmth of Boston was unexpected but so nice.

When William finally flew over to Toronto to play in the AHL Pasta called him up just to ask if it was warm there for him too.

“It’s good,” William said, “it is, really, Toronto is cool.”

There was a but there.

“It’s just, you know, you’re joining a team that’s already put together, the Leafs are splintering apart. I don’t think I’m going to get to play for the senior team until at least next year but probably not even then. It’s just. Different here. It’s different without you. But I’m so happy you’re happy.”

“We’re not far” Pasta said to him, “I’ll see you.”

William made a contemplative noise “Okay, you need to focus...well we need to focus on hockey though. I’m not going anywhere you know, don’t worry about seeing me.”

“I am,” Pasta said, “I’ll see you,” he insisted.

After that he kind of made it his mission to see William, something about hearing William tell him not to worry made Pasta fixate on it. He did focus on hockey first and foremost but the moment they were off the ice, the moment they were told to relax, he was searching for holes in the schedule and looking up ticket prices.

It isn’t until April, the end of the season, that Pasta can find the time. They’re flying into Toronto when the Marlies don’t have a game. Pasta didn’t necessarily demand William come to his hotel room when he gets the number, but it’s a near thing. Dinner may be a more appropriate excuse to meet up, but he couldn’t come up with the sense to care.

He kicked Trotman out without a second thought. Which was fine because Trots just rolled his eyes and muttered something about Spoons being a better roommate anyway. But all in all it didn’t really bug Pasta. It should’ve bugged Pasta, just a little, because he shouldn’t be making a habit of kicking his teammates out. That guilt and those thoughts flew out the window when he heard a knock on his door.

It was William because it was always William and Pasta didn’t even have time to say ‘Hello’ before he’s pushed further into the room and lips are on his. He fell into it easily, accepting William in his space like it’s the most natural thing in the world, more so than being without him. He gripped William’s arms as he’s walked back into the room further until his knees hit the bed.

“I missed you,” William breathed when he pulled away, “I missed _this._ Fuck Pasta.”

“Missed you too,” Pasta said back, desperately pawing at William’s chest through his shirt. “Kiss me again,” he demanded.

William smiled at him before doing as he’s told, pressing his mouth firmly to Pasta’s, his hand coming up to angle Pasta’s head back just enough for William to loom slightly over him. They were still the same size, with William having just a little more weight than him, but everything about it was so similar and he fell into it so easily. It felt like he’d been doing this his whole life, felt like he’s known William for longer than just a few years.

They end up on Pasta’s bed with William over him, kissing him and rubbing against one another. Pasta felt almost helpless beneath him, with William taking control of him so easily. Not that Pasta wanted to put up any sort of fight. Just most people probably look at William’s blonde hair and blue eyes and soft smile and think he’s all submissive and weak. But when he was with Pasta, like he was then, over him, he’s desperate and strong and takes whatever Pasta is willing to give him.

“Hey,” William pulled back, “Do you want to blow me?”

“What?” Pasta asked.

“It’s okay if you don’t, I just, please?”

Pasta blinked at him before nodding slowly, “I just don’t know…”

“It’s okay, You don’t need to do anything fancy,” William said, “I just want your lips around me, I want to know what it feels like. With you.”

Pasta nodded again, a little dumbfounded by the request before wrestling William over so he was laying on his back. They both stripped then, still a little awkward about it with Pasta’s arms getting stuck in his shirt and William having to forcefully kick his jeans all the way off. But it didn’t matter because after, Pasta could touch William’s chest and body freely and feel the warm skin under his hands.

Eventually he worked his way down to William’s dick, staring right at it. It was hard, from Pasta’s hands probably but also maybe a little bit from anticipation too. He really didn’t think he’d be good at it but William asked for it. And if William was doing this to him, he’d like it even if William was terrible at it. So that thought settles him. Because if there’s anything he’s sure of it’s that the feelings between them are mutual.

So Pasta worked William’s dick with his hands for a few slow pulls before clearing his throat and leaning down. William’s breath got shallow just before Pasta tentatively licked at the head of his dick. Mostly it tasted like William, familiar. Knowing that settled something in him, calmed an anxious buzz in his chest. He had no problem taking William into his mouth then.

It felt bigger in his mouth than it did in his hand, hard to manipulate, and completely solid. He fumbled with it clumsily, trying to bob his head like he was knew you were supposed to, twirling his tongue around like he’d seen in porn, just trying what he could. The spit was building up and his lips were so hot and they felt stretched wide. Nothing about it felt sexy at all, especially when he took William in too far and choked, having to pull back to regain his composure.

“You okay?” William sounded breathless and stunned.

Pasta looked up at him and wiped at his mouth and nodded. William was red all the way down to his chest, his eyes blown wide.

“Good?” Pasta asked but he probably didn’t have to.

“ _Fuck_ , Pasta,” which was answer enough.

Pasta took William back into his mouth then and started focusing less on what he was doing and more on what William felt like. He focused on the way William’s dick felt with his hand around the base, focused on the head and the way it slid across his tongue, focused on the way his tongue moved along the skin when he licked at it. It was a lot sexier when Pasta started to really feel _fucked_ . His lips weren’t hot and swollen anymore, they were used, from stretching wide around William, from making him feel _good_.

He groaned when William’s hand carded through his hair and finally looked up at him. William had his head thrown back and was making shocked faces at the ceiling even with his eyes closed.

A few seconds later William tugged on his hair and let out a few cut off words, so Pasta pulled back and jerked him off slowly watching, enchanted, as William came across his stomach.

It was Pasta’s turn to say, “fuck.”

 

***********

 

Not making the playoffs his first year was a bummer, especially with how good the Bruins had been the previous years. But it’s okay, he didn’t take it too hard. Besides, William _did_ make the playoffs, with the Toronto Marlies, so Pasta stuck around Boston to catch a few games on his laptop when he could find a stream for them. No one asked why he was still around and no one even mentioned it being weird. Part of Pasta wanted to go up to Toronto but t that definitely would be considered weird. He knew Krej and Looch wouldn’t judge him for it...but he’s not sure what he’s supposed to be judged for to begin with, so it was simpler to just, stay put in Boston.

The Marlies didn’t last though and are out the first round. Pasta texted William the moment he saw them lose, just a frowny face and a “call me?” but that was it. He knew that losing sucked and sometimes you just needed space. If William wanted the space Pasta wanted to give it to him.

William didn’t want the space.

Pasta’s phone rang just as he was getting into bed. He picked it up and answered without even thinking about it. He knew who it was immediately.

“Pasta,” William’s voice sounded relieved over the phone, like he thought Pasta wouldn’t have picked up.

“Hello,” Pasta said back, “How are you feeling?”

“Jeez,” William laughed, “that’s a loaded question, I don’t know,” there was a pause where Pasta could have sworn he heard William thinking before he said, “Losing sucks,” and laughed.

“Yeah, It does” Pasta said, and then, “i’m still in Boston,”

“Oh? You are? Why?”

“Because,” Pasta shrugged, “it’s closer.”

“To what?”

“You.”

“Oh.”

There was a long pause where they just breathed at each other over the phone and Pasta didn’t know what else to say. It’s all true, so he didn’t regret saying it. But he wasn’t sure what William’s feeling about it were. It wasn’t not any weirder than how they usually are. Not really. But William wasn’t usually silent on him like that.

“Can I come down and see you? We can go back home together?” It’s a stupid question, they don’t live in the same country.

Pasta still said, “Yeah,” though. Because of course he did.

“Awesome.”

There was another weirdly long pause.

“Um,” William finally said, clearing his throat, “I want uh.”

“What?” Pasta asked, so ready just to say _anything, anything you want_. He knew better than to offer something like that up, clear and vulnerable. He didn’t think William would ask anything mean of him but he’s a hockey player, and Pasta knows hockey players.

“I’ve just been thinking about it a lot...or well thinking about you a lot. I just want. Can I... will you let me fuck you?” he said the last part fast like he was ripping off of a band aid.

Pasta was so used to answering William right away but he let the silence fall between them again then because it felt important. He needed to think this over, not just give William a yes if he wasn’t sure.

It still doesn’t take him long.

“Anything you want.”

A few days later William came down to Boston, packed light. They decided to not go back home together; it wouldn’t have made sense. But it was okay because William still came to see him and Pasta thought that was really all that mattered. Home was nice and he missed his mom -- so much -- but his apartment in Boston was empty and it was going to be empty for the few days he had with William here and that was enough.

They moved lightly into Pasta’s room, leaving William’s bag near the front door, with whispers to get it later. The anticipation was high between them, but the air around them was solid and cool, making what should be hazy hyper clear. They didn’t talk as they both started to undress, reaching over and helping just to touch every few seconds because not even this was worth being away from each other.

When Pasta finally got all of his clothes off, he reached for William, who was sliding his boxers down his hips. He didn’t care though, didn’t care about getting in his way, just kissed him and stroked his thumbs along William’s sharp cheekbones, wanting to feel him everywhere. William was a little off balance when he stepped out of his boxers but when he’s able to free himself he grabbed Pasta back, his hands securely on Pasta’s elbows, and regained control of the kiss.

The end up pressed a lot closer pretty quickly, William shifting his hips up to grind his dick into the cut of Pasta’s hip, encouraging Pasta to do the same. His hand came up to grab Pasta around the chin so he could tilt him to the side and gain access to Pasta’s neck. There was nothing he could do to that besides hold William just as tighty as ever and let out panting breaths. He couldn’t stop himself from pressing closer, trying to guide William’s mouth to the more sensitive parts of his neck, asking desperately for more.

The room felt so quiet with William’s mouth occupied with his neck. It’s raining outside and there’s the occasional sound of traffic but that’s it, inside the walls it’s just them and in the end, Pasta thinks that’s what made him shiver the most.

Hockey is great, teammates and friends and family are the best, but knowing the rest of the world is locked out of his room and all that requires his immediate attention is within a few inches of him is...a lot. Pasta didn’t want to shut out the world usually, but a few hours may be just what he needed.

Pasta pulled away eventually to sit back on the bed but William stopped him.

“If...if we keep...not gonna last” Pasta said, trying to catch his breath.

“I know, I just,” William pulled Pasta’s arms towards him and looked sideways towards the wall, “I want you bent over the dresser, just a little, is that okay?”

“Oh” Pasta nodded, “Yeah okay.” He was already this far.

Pasta ended up with his hands clasped and elbows resting on the top of the dresser, popping his hips out just enough. It was tall enough that the slope of his back wasn’t too sharp, but still short enough that he was still on display for William, still at his mercy in a lot of ways.

“Yeah,” William whispered as his hands went to grab Pasta’s hips gently, coaxing Pasta into tilting his hips back just a little bit more. He could feel the stretch from it in his lower back, a little twinge of effort. He could handle it though, he was an athlete, he put his body through worse for longer.

William’s hands moved around Pasta’s skin almost worshipping after that, his palm sliding up Pasta’s thighs and dipping in between his legs. It made Pasta dip his head and have to breathe through the touch.

“God,” William let out on a breathy moan, “You’re skin’s so soft” He said reverent.

The only response Pasta could come up with was a stuttered breath when William pulled his hips back a little bit more and coaxed Pasta’s legs a little wider. It wasn’t a position he found himself in often, and maybe he’d feel exposed if it wasn’t just William there to see him.

Pasta didn’t know where William got the lube from, a pocket maybe, but soon there were wet fingers spreading him open and pressing at his hole. He let out a shocked gasp and turned his head so his mouth was pressed to his bicep. The feeling was foreign and hyper real, sensitive.

“You okay?” William asked.

Pasta just nodded.

“Okay, good,” William pressed forward, adding more pressure, just testing.

Pasta could only clench his eyes shut and feel what William was doing to him, mouthing restlessly at his own bicep. He finally let out a soft moan when William’s finger went in, easier than Pasta was expecting, with all the lube William was using. It was just up to the first knuckle though, after that a weird fullness started shocking up Pasta’s spine and he couldn’t help but gasp into his arm and then bite at it, just to get the tension out. It wasn’t _bad_ but it was weird and he’d never felt anything like it.

Thankfully William took it slow. He waited until Pasta’s whimpers morphed into quiet shakes, before pushing the whole of his pointer finger in.

He should have prepared for this, Pasta thought hysterically. He should have fingered himself, done more than just think about how William wanted to do this. But something about this, wasn’t about doing it on his own. He liked that he wasn’t alone feeling this for the first time.

William’s second finger felt nothing like just one, that’s when it went from weird to _real_ , like something was really fucking into him then. Pasta let out a broken cry, still soft but feeling big in the quiet room.

“Okay?” William asked, again.

Pasta just nodded this time, words caught in his throat.

William must have lost his patience then because he didn’t take as much time with the second finger. It didn’t hurt, there was still too much lube for that, but it ached in this full, deep way, his body adjusting. Soon William’s fingers were pressed all the way in him and Pasta could feel the rest of his knuckles pressed up against him. It was...William was so _deep_.

“God...fuck. Wow.” William was muttering a stream of words that Pasta couldn’t grab onto. But he sounded about as overwhelmed as Pasta felt.

The way William started to pump his fingers in and out made Pasta shake with it, curling his hands into fists and then relaxing them in short pulses. It didn’t feel weird anymore, or, well, it _did_ , it felt really weird. But mostly Pasta felt restless, resettling his feet, tensing his hands, and mouthing at his bicep until he was pretty sure there would be a hickey there.

He wasn’t sure if he’s ready for it but he didn’t know how much longer he could take of this slow, steady, finger fucking. He could feel every inch of William’s fingers, the unique divots and a small scar on one of them, in a deep and intimate part of him. Everything was _so much_.

Not too much but close.

When William started bending his fingers around inside of Pasta is when he realized he was letting out helpless noises. They sounded so easy and slutty to his own ears but he couldn’t stop them, not even when he bit down hard on his already abused arm.

William made a frustrated noise and pressed closer, like he was searching for something. Pasta wanted to tell him to quit it, that whatever he was looking for wasn’t worth it because Pasta felt good and just wanted him to get on with it. He didn’t need anything fancy just William closer to him and for this uncontrollable buzzing to be stifled.

But then William found it, pulling his fingers almost all the way out and pushing them back in slowly, knuckles bent forward.

“Oh!’ Pasta jerked forward, groaning when he knocked his hip into the edge of the dresser.

“There,” William breathed, his hand holding his hips pulled him back away from the dresser and held him steady as he fucked his fingers in trying to keep them right over that spot.

It was a lot, Pasta had no control over the noises he was making now, just panting with his head hung low. The pleasure of this rivaled the deep ache that made Pasta want to push back, this was sharp and undeniable, no getting used to it. It wasn’t just about the closeness of William, but about his fingers and hitting that one spot and driving Pasta fucking crazy.

“Please,” Pasta got out, forced from his lungs.

“Huh?”

“Please just,” Pasta couldn’t say it though, not when he was gasping for air.

“Okay,” William didn’t press for more, just fingered him a little bit more, spreading his fingers apart and pulled them out.

Being empty was almost worse and Pasta whined, tilting his hips back as much as they could go, not wanting William to go too far.

“I know, I’m here,” William shushed as Pasta heard him put a condom on, “Just, yeah.”

The head of William’s dick was right there now and god, it felt so much bigger than his two fingers. Pasta groaned as William nudged his opening, it wouldn’t take much for William to get in him, with how easy the fingers were.

And it was easy, but still so much. Pasta reached down to grab his own dick, like he was just remembering it was there, when William finally pushed in. It was wide and the sweet stretch amplified. But god, it was William, undeniably so. He pushed all the way in probably before he was supposed to but then his lips were against Pasta’s shoulder and his both his hands on Pasta’s hips. He didn’t fucking care whether William was being polite or not now, just wanted him this close forever.

“Fuck,” Pasta got out, swallowing before gasping for air.

William groaned in response before shifting his hips back and then fucking them back in. It rocked Pasta onto the balls of his feet and he tried to better brace himself for the next one but it was like every time William fucked into him he lost all the tension in his body and could only go where William was pushing him.

He wanted to apologize for not being able to hold himself sturdy, for not being able to push back, but he didn’t know if William would be able to hear him if he said that. So Pasta just, bowed his head between his shoulders and rested his full weight on his elbows, just letting William take him anyway he wanted. And fuck Pasta wanted it too, so bad. He didn’t know if he could get that spot again with his dick like he got with his fingers but Pasta didn’t think that really mattered. That sharp pleasure was so good but this deep, _full_ , ache, is enough for Pasta to get lost in it.

 _Fuck_. He didn’t want it to end.

William eventually reached forward and grabbed Pasta’s half hard dick, squeezing it in his palm. Pasta couldn’t tell if it was the hand he used to finger Pasta or if he just added lube to the other one but either way he let out a sharp gasp and hunched himself forward. William followed though, and he was stuck, stuck between William’s dick and his hand and could only take it even as his body heat was turned up to a thousand.

“Oh. Oh.” Pasta got out, digging his nails into his palms. He couldn’t get away this was going to be the end of him he was going to die right here in William’s arms in his apartment in Boston and it was going to be the best fucking death anyone has ever had.

William came before he did, grinding into him and letting out strangled moans into Pasta’s shoulder, his hand not moving from Pasta’s dick.

He jerked Pasta off hard and fast, a man with a mission. Pasta choked out a sob when he came, and moaned when he felt himself tighten around William’s dick. It didn’t feel alien anymore, it felt part of him.

“Oh,” Pasta shuddered. He didn’t know how he was going to move from this spot ever again.

 

***********

 

William finally made the Toronto Maple Leafs late into Pasta’s second season on the Bruins. He was so happy for him, but more so when he saw it meant they’d be playing against each other in March. It was a little selfish maybe, but William was always supposed to play with him, against him.

They met up for dinner when that night came, keeping space but not too much. It was enough to deny if anyone saw anything, but not enough to feel like it wasn’t date. Because it was. That’s what they did now, they dated.

They went to nice restaurants and held hands under the table and when they went for a walk afterwards Pasta even let him walk into a tree.

“What the hell?” William sputtered rubbing at his forehead.

Pasta just giggled, “Keep your head up,” he offered.

William rolled his eyes, “You’re a little shit!”

“I know,” Pasta grinned at him, “Maybe not so good in game tonight huh?” He joked, poking William in the stomach.

William smiled at him and pushed his finger away, his expression softening as he took Pasta’s hand in his for a beat or two. They were still out in public even if no one really recognized them.

They just stood there, giggling and smiling at each other for a few seconds before Pasta stepped closer.

“Hey,” William said, his giggling stopping abruptly but his smile staying put.

“Hey,” Pasta said back, “can I ask you something?”

“Yeah, of course, anything,” William said, so easy and eager.

“Do you love me?”

The words hang in between them for what feels like forever, the world stopping to accommodate the importance of their moment.

William’s eyes dart down to trace Pasta’s lips before he looks back up at him and nods sharply, “Yeah, have since we were 16, thanks for noticing.”

Pasta laughed happily and threw his arm around William’s neck to get him in a headlock. William giggled too and started trying to wrestle out of Pasta’s hold. It went on like that for a bit, them pushing against each other and trying to get tangled up in one another’s arms before they stopped and watched each other with steady eyes.

“You know I love you too, right?” Pasta asked.

“Yeah,” William said, “I know.”

**Author's Note:**

> leave a comment or kudos if you feel like it! it means a lot! and thanks a bunch!
> 
> and i'll probably end up locking this at some point so if it disappears in a few days that's why lol


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